Lost the child that wanders,
Missing the one that goes,
Without voice nor footsteps yonder
To where no one knows.

And a parent's silent hunger,
Fed with ceaseless dreams,
Scavenges the universe
Crying for what it means.

The hours, the days, the weeks and years,
Pass still glibly by,
Stopping nought for the child that's gone,
Nor heeding the parent's cry.

'Where is my child, I pray You God,
Has death her body stole,
Or will she yet walk through my door,
Alive, just as before?'

Oh silent grieving parents,
My heart with you cries too,
And my yearning calls to Heaven,
That God reaches down to you.

For the grief that I am bearing,
Is joy compared to yours,
And the tears that wash my sorrow,
Flow with begging to God's door.

            © Helen Catherine Cramer

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